


under the kitchen lights

by starkilling



Series: sheith week prompts [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), New Year's Kiss, Pining, Season 8 divergent, This is so cliche, because who the hell follows s8, keith is awkward as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkilling/pseuds/starkilling
Summary: His eyes find their way to the ceiling while he thinks; in the meantime Keith cuts in. “A lot of people see it as a chance for a fresh start. The opportunity to accomplish goals, wash away bad blood and repair a relationship—““Start anewone,” Pidge takes her turn to interrupt, sending a barely-subtle knowing look Keith’s way who visibly pales at being caught and stares a hole into the floor.





	under the kitchen lights

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to my cliche parade! my name's quinn and i'll be your your guide
> 
> title is from "dance to this" by king and queen troye sivan and ariana grande (but i was also listening to imagine by her too)
> 
> follow me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/kxiths) for more sheith and ignoring season 8

It takes ten minutes and  _all_  five of the Earth-borns to try to explain to Coran and Allura what a “New Years Eve” celebration is. The concept of time is completely different on on Altea and while it may be so, none of them expected it to call for  _this_  long to stitch together reasoning regarding the occasion. In the back of their minds, they’re at least grateful they didn’t have to explain it to the rest of the Garrison on the planet for the holiday who weren’t familiar with weird Earth parties just yet. But - a party’s a party, plausible cause or not.

They’re able to find some common ground towards the end of the conversation relating News Years Eve to day-long celebrations on Altea, like Grogory Day. Although on Earth New Years isn’t necessarily an entire day of complimenting everyone, it is similar in that there are undertones of behaving under a changed motivation. There’s also some relation to Clear Day, but only in the sense that it’s a day-long celebration for only one time a year.

“You celebrate every time Earth makes a revolution around a star? Why the night before and not on the actual day?” Allura asks in her endearing, inquisitive voice and she’s met with a chorus of nods.

Shiro is the first to chime in, “We celebrate the night before because at midnight wherever we are, the revolution is complete. A New Year can mean a lot of things to a lot of people.”

His eyes find their way to the ceiling while he thinks; in the meantime Keith cuts in. “A lot of people see it as a chance for a fresh start. The opportunity to accomplish goals, wash away bad blood and repair a relationship—“

“Start a  _new_  one,” Pidge takes her turn to interrupt, sending a barely-subtle knowing look Keith’s way who visibly pales at being caught and stares a hole into the floor. She claims silent victory over making him uncomfortable and turns her attention back to Allura. “Anyway! There’s a lot of reasons to celebrate. It’s a great opportunity since we haven’t had a break for a while.” Silence. Then, “Have you tried champagne yet?”

The rest of the conversation dulls into a distant hum in the background of his mind for Keith, who is still looking at the floor. Hoping he can get eaten by it. Katie will get an ear full later on from him for taking him off guard, but he can’t even begin to think about complaining to her if she’s so—so  _right_.

He’s confided to her in the past when Krolia hasn’t been able to lend some listening. She may not have always been the best option, but she’s neutral ground and certainly better than Lance or Allura, who always relate their advice to the other when he’s asked them. And, while thankful for their time, he can’t relate to it. Hunk has been honest and said he isn’t good at the kind of advice, Coran is out of the question after what he did to Lance before he started dating Allura, and Shiro—

His advice would be impeccable. He’s dated another man in the past. Keith would be able to take it and run for miles.

If only Keith was looking for advice  _from_ Shiro and not  _about_ him.

Christ.

He blinks away the distraction and looks back up with an empty smile, pretending to have been tuned in the whole time just as the talk begins winding down. Everyone parts to begin helping out the Garrison with preparations, and Keith turns on the ball of his foot to make a quick departure before the  _only_ person who could possibly pick up on the fact that he mentally ditched on Black back to space is able to say something—

“Keith, you were out of it for a second there.”

 _Of course,_ Keith thinks to himself,  _perfect worlds don’t exist._

His shoulders turn just enough to where he can peer at Shiro approaching from behind him. “Was just thinking about resolutions!” He’s back to awkward-smiling away the nerves, but it’s a shitty attempt at best.

“Oh yeah?” Shiro raises a brow, not convinced but biting the bait, “And what are they?”

“That’s for me to know!” Keith waves him off and uses the opportunity he has to slip away and busy his brain with helping setup.

Since the celebration is Garrison-wide, it’s easy to make himself busy since there’s so much to do. Somehow he finds his way into helping Hunk in the kitchen. He’s a chatterbox the whole time, but the talk is nice and makes his shoulders relax. It’s as acceptable as it can be, save the few moments Keith botches the frosting on a few cookies and Hunk laughs at him. Other than that, he can see why there are redeeming qualities in the comforts of baking, and mentally notes it for later. For a while, things are going well. Then Iverson walks in to help.

And talks about nothing but the Atlas and the new things they’re working on.

The part of Keith’s brain that so expertly operates word association immediately slams the rest of it back into thinking about Shiro. He curses under his breath, and looks down to see a clenched fist around the piping bag. Frosting is  _everywhere_ across his cookies and he can only look at them dumbly like it suddenly appeared on them. It sure as hell feels like it did.

Hunk finds him staring at them, laughs at him again, then sends him away to do help someone else citing that he had frosted enough cookies for one day. In Keith’s own defense, they’d been at it for a few hours leading up to Iverson and his patriotic mouth. Relaxed shoulders are now slump as he leaves.

A shower sounds best. He knows it’ll clear his mind, and he’ll have time to move leisurely before the festivities start. Keith makes for his room, arms crossed. He makes sure to avoid eye contact with anyone he passes by to get out of being pulled into helping something else. Which isn’t hard - although to a far lesser degree now, he does come off standoffish.  _If I just don’t look at them,_ he chants in his head,  _I’ll look busy and they won’t bother me_.

Even if the logic isn’t exactly sound, it’s working. The person who ends up interrupting the luck is actually Keith himself, but only when he looks into Pidge’s work area as he’s passing by and sees her in there. Alone. He forgets the shower briefly to jump on that ear full he was promising earlier and stomps into her space.

“Pidge!” Keith says in a shrill tone, and she sits up straight in her chair with a start. “Warn me before you almost embarrass me into the next reality!”

She looks at him pointedly and shrugs. “If Shiro still too oblivious to figure out that you’re in love with him, then I knew he was too oblivious to catch the hint.”

“I’m not  _in love_ with him, Katie.”

“Keith, two things.” She reaches out to touch his hand. “One, you’re a horrible liar. Two, you’re not subtle. You can’t just lay your life down multiple times for someone and say you’re not in love with them.” She blinks a few times as a steady but persistent wave of realization washes over her. “Also didn’t you tell me yourself that you told him you loved him when you fought?”

“Shit. I’m in love with him.”

“How could you two be so blissfully unaware of your own feelings?” She asks, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Shiro may not realize it, but he acts like he feels something for you, too.”

Keith doesn’t ask for clarification on her comment. He feels like it’s too good to be true. There’s plenty of things of to like about Shiro: great leadership, strength, tender, personable. Keith knows he’s always struggled with finding redeeming qualities in himself, so if he can’t see them - who can?

The conversation dies with ease much like the sunlight as the day goes on. Thankfully, Pidge doesn’t press the subject further and instead allowa Keith to find some mental refuge in helping her wire some of the more intricate lighting for the party. This time it’s just the two of them - no Iverson, no invasive word association, no Hunk laughing at his bad baking skills.

Hands reach up to settle on his shoulders after their work is complete and Keith can feel his own sore from intricacies. A sympathetic expression wrinkles her browline. Keith sees it more like a look a mother gives her child when it’s done something air-headed. He doesn’t see much of a difference - she has told him more than once that he’s an idiot. He can’t disagree.

“Keith,” she sighs to him, letting her head hang. If his eye were closed, he thinks he could be tricked into the idea that he’s talking to his mom. “you can do whatever you set your mind to. Don’t doubt someone else’s ability to fall for you.”

The ability to argue dies in his throat when she pulls him in for a weak hug. He doesn’t process it, but he brings her in tighter and whispers a soft  _thank you_ into the top of her fluffy hair before heading to his room where his original intentions had been waiting - shower.

Hot water on the back of his neck is enough to ease the muscles but he would have to be put into a coma to have his head at ease - and even that’s questionable. The weight of Katie’s words press into him as jagged rocks on what should be a smooth surface. He lets his forehead rest against the tile of the shower wall, hair plastering to his skin. As much as he wants to let the hope supply him like oxygen, he doesn’t let it connect. He would rather be met with rejection and not be let down than feel heartbroken - but Keith knows well enough that he would either way.

It took forever to even get Shiro to talk to him about the fight at the cloning facility. He at least came with some honesty about the whole situation and told Keith that he felt too bad about it to bring it up. The talk itself felt needed, but there was a key part that was left out of the closure:  _I love you_. Not that Keith wasn’t grateful for the talk overall, but…

He catches himself getting consumed by intrusive thoughts again. When it comes to Shiro, his tendency to let himself fall victim to self-doubt and selling himself short reign supreme. It often swallows him like a rip current, pulling him to the floor of the ocean until it’s too late to swim out and all he can do is sit on the sand and watch as oxygen bubbles full of unspoken words climb to the surface, leaving his lungs with nothing left but water to fill the empty space.

A huff escapes him after the tap is off, and while drying away the water droplets left behind he opts to wear nicer attire for the occasion. Despite a blazer and slacks, Keith stubbornly chooses to keep the fingerless gloves even though they clash with the rest of his clothes. For luck, maybe. They’ve never done him wrong, right? He secures a hair tie at the base of his nape for a low ponytail to look neater. His hair is long enough to be falling over his shoulders now, and soon will be enough to braid - but he’d have to wait for Kolivan or Krolia to teach him how to do something complicated like that. This is enough.

By the time he’s walking into the ballroom he didn’t even know the base had, it’s filled with attendees. He first notices Allura who is adorned by a white dress, and right after that his eyes catch Lance who is gawking. In his defense, rightfully so. She looks beautiful. Instead of approaching them he first makes a beeline for the counter piled with champagne. Keith fills himself a glass (then another right after drinking the first at the counter), and makes his way over to the group.

Once he crosses the room to them, the rest of the group is there. Excluding Shiro, for now at least. He takes a breath and plays it cool to not pass off as a nervous wreck. He knows to expect by now that they’d see right through him, but it’s better to just deny any pretending. Allura and Pidge both compliment him, commenting on the outfit since they hadn’t previously seen him in it before.

“I’ve had it stuffed away for a while.” He responds with a shrug, then another sip of his drink.

Only a few minutes are able pass until the last of the group arrives. Keith immediately averts his eyes back into staring holes at the floor. He tries his best to avoid ogling Shiro’s outfit like Lance did to Allura, because he can tell even out of the corner of his eye that he looks mesmerizing. It’s painfully obvious now that he’s being awkward, Pidge has already sent him a disapproving glance, but he can’t allow himself room for embarrassment.

After the alcohol has buzzed him he’s more able to socialize. It’s not as hard to look  _at_ Shiro anymore without wanting to become the floor, but he still can’t make eye contact for more than a tick. They all are feeling the liquid courage, and find themselves cheering Lance and Allura on when they wander off to dance in the background.

Towards midnight, Keith finds himself back at the bar. He’s sure he’s made of wine at this point, swaying back and forth by himself to the steady thump of music swimming in his ears. Fingers swirl the drink around in his glass, and he is reaching to refill when Shiro appears and steals the bottle from him, as well as his glass. Keith blinks incredulously at Shiro at the action, and if he weren’t already flushing from the alcohol, he’d be covered in red.

“I didn’t realize you liked champagne that much.” Shiro laughs. 

Keith grimaces in a joking manner, “The more you have, the better it tastes.” He knows if he were sober he’d be tripping over his words like turbulence in air.

“You have a good point.” Shiro finishes pouring the glass and hands it back to Keith before pouring one himself.

He’s distant and lost in watching the bubbles of the bubbly when Shiro speaks up again, offering forward his own glass. “Cheers?”

Keith can’t help but wear a more genuine smile, and he clinks them together. “Cheers,” he echoes.

The ballroom starts getting louder and when he looks over, people are counting down from thirty. He didn’t realize how time had passed so quickly. It’s a thought lost far in the back of his mind as he watches the masses of bodies. Some are pulling each other in close, chins tilting, lips pulled into smiles. Lance is no exception; he has Allura around her waist and leans in for a tender kiss.

Shiro is watching them as well, not noticing right away that Keith has turned back. Keith’s eyes are heavy lidded, pupils hyper-focused on his lips, wanting. Craving. Pidge’s words play like a broken record in his ears mixed with the loud rush of his blood. Again his attention is faltering with the drinks keeping his reaction time fairly mediocre, because Shiro catches the direction of his gaze before he can back out and shy away.

It seems that time slows briefly just for them when Shiro reaches down to cup Keith’s jaw with one hand and reels him in. Under the haze of alcohol Keith doesn’t even bother to hesitate nor question, and just as cheers start to rumble through the room their lips come flush together. It’s everything that Keith has imagined in dreams, alone in his room, really  _anywhere_  - and more. There’s a calculated yet soft movement, gentle yet demanding, careful yet confident. Absent minded, his own hand slips up and around the back of Shiro’s neck, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin.

Lungs don’t work well by any means when they can’t filter carbon dioxide, but if this is how Keith suffocates he’d welcome it with open arms. His lips are more than qualified to be as important as oxygen, even if it’s a stupid thought. Their bodies meet the same way their lips did and close every space possible. Shiro sets his drink down in exchange for resting his Altean hand at the small of Keith’s waist, and they sway a little in the moment they relish. 

Parting doesn’t come easy; Keith immediately wants to dive back in to taste the heavy flavor of spice on Shiro. He knows better, plus when Shiro leans just a little to rest their foreheads together he decides that’s more than sufficient. It’s just intimate enough to where he can feel a different type of heat separate from the alcohol settle low in his neck. Right above his chest. Shiro is breathing life into it like a flame, nursing the embers under his hands, and igniting them with his lips. They stay like this for a while, ignoring the crowd and the music and the drinking and the long conversation that will probably come when they’re sober tomorrow.

Conversation isn’t even necessary right now. The steady breathing, rhythmic, matches the beats in their chest. Keith may be drunk, but he finds the lingering scent of cologne on Shiro far more intoxicating than any drink he could ever have. Right now, this is all he needs.

Right now, this is enough. 

Neither of them see Pidge fist pumping to herself with pride beaming as bright as the damn sun from across the room.

**Author's Note:**

> i told you it was cliche


End file.
